


DL Shorts: Part 1

by InvertedPhantasmagoria



Category: Diabolik Lovers
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Begging, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Cannibalism, Choking, Chronic Illness, Collars, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Desperation, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Insomnia, Kissing, Light Bondage, Literal Sleeping Together, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Pet Names, Pet Play, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Role Reversal, Seizures, Service Submission, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Spanking, Subspace, Temperature Play, Touch-Starved, Trust Kink, Vampires, Vulnerability, Wax Play, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvertedPhantasmagoria/pseuds/InvertedPhantasmagoria
Summary: Just a collection of short fic requests from my tumblr, stored here for easy reference. There will be more to come, hopefully. o3o Some of this writing is ancient, but oh well. Some people wanted me to post these here, so I guess it can't hurt.





	DL Shorts: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are in the tags, and I am _tired_. Comments make me happy and make me write more. Leave comments to fuel your exhausted author.

  1. **Sakamaki Kanato**



 

Eyes fluttering closed, dark lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks, Kanato was as pretty as you’d ever seen him. 

His face is red and tear streaked, soft skin flushed dark. 

“You did good, Kanato,” you said, brushing a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He made a soft, tired little noise in response, rolling over and curling up so that his head rested against your hip. 

Somehow, you’d managed to get three orgasms out of him, one after another, until he was sobbing into the sheets, too weak to even struggle. You’d only let up a moment ago, and by that point, Kanato looked downright fucked-out, half out of his mind with pleasure. 

It was a good look on him, you thought. 

“You’re going to kill me,” he mumbles, sounding oddly happy about it.

“Darn right I am. And you’re going to  _ love  _ it,” you laugh, and pull his skinny body up into your lap before he can complain. 

There’s something fragile about the way he tucks his head against your chest, soft breaths falling against your skin. He looks small and vulnerable, softly snuggling up to your skin like he needs the attention oh-so badly. You can only imagine how many people never gave it to him. 

“Good boy. . . So good for me,” you whisper, and you can  _ feel  _ the way Kanato shudders at the words, going limp all at once against your chest. “You’re such a sweet boy. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Kanato whines, low and almost distressed, nuzzling closer to you. He hides his face in your chest, thin legs curling up around you like parenthesis. 

He makes a noise like he’s dying when you start to press little kisses all over his face and hair. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him close to you, firm enough that he’ll feel grounded and held tight. 

A few moments pass like that, peacefully, and you allow Kanato to cling onto you like he never wants to let go, rocking him softly in a gesture that’s as tender as you can manage. You know that vampire aren’t exactly gentle creatures, but the poor thing seems downright  _ starved  _ for love, and well, what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t give it to him. 

“We’ve got to clean up, you know,” you say eventually. “You’re gonna throw a fit when you wake up all sticky.”

Kanato makes an incoherent noise into your chest, before tipping his head up enough to speak. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to move, so we’re staying here. You got your way plenty already,” he says, sniffling. 

His lips are kiss-swollen and red, you note. 

You want to kiss him until they  _ bruise.  _

“Alright, you little monster. We’ll cuddle instead. Don’t cry any more.” You kiss his forehead again, and Kanato sighs, content. 

Squirming a bit to get closer to you, he moves with you when you roll over, firmly lodging himself in the space between your chest and the bed. He mumbles something about you being warm, and brushes his lips against your skin, softer than you once thought he could be. 

You squeeze him close to you, tight enough that he’ll never feel like he could slip away. 

 

  1. **Mukami Kou**



 

“You want to see it go all the way in, don’t you?” Kou’s eye is glowing red, his sweat slick face squinched up into an expression of utter pleasure. 

The thickest toy you’ve ever seen is about half way in him, stretching his hole so much you’d think it would hurt. He’s leaning over it, back arched and body shaking, though, and seems to be loving every second of stretch. 

“Quit using your powers for this,” you laugh, “and be careful. I don’t want you going to fast on that thing and hurting yourself.”

Kou grins, flipping a bit of damp hair out of his face. He sinks down slightly further on the toy and moans, obviously making a show out of it. “But it feels  _ good,”  _ he whines, squirming a bit, toes curling. “You don’t understand. I want to be able to feel it for  _ days. _ ”

“I know, you little diva. I bet you’d like it if I recorded this, too, so you could see how slutty you look right now.” Your words are followed up with a wicked grin, and Kou’s eyes go dark, pupils going impossibly wide. 

He forces himself down further, only a couple inches away from the base of the toy, and squeaks when it hits something sensitive. 

You know he’s being dramatic about it, trying to look good even as he works a toy almost as thick as your wrist into himself. You’re half tempted to shove him the rest of the way down and make him  _ really  _ scream. He’d like that, even if he’d complain about the ache for days after. 

Kou whines, shifting a bit, and you only imagine how full he must feel. His hole is red around the base of the toy, cock flushed and bobbing between his legs with every little move, dripping wetness. 

Shifting, you ease yourself closer to him, smiling and wrapping your fingers around his dick. You didn’t think he’d manage this without help.

The whimper that leave him when you start to stroke goes straight to your sex. Watching Kou impale himself on a massive toy is one thing, but easing him into it is even hotter. Especially when he drops his head to your shoulder, cool breath puffing against your skin as he moans. 

“Just. . . a little further,” he whimpers. “I’m gonna do it.”

With that, your hand still stroking him, he slides the rest of the way down, gasping like he’s dying as the last inch or two sinks in. 

He’s shaking, so full he looks like he can hardly breathe, and his pretty face is damp with sweat. You tease the head of his cock and relish in the whine and jerk it earns you, Kou whimpering as the toy presses inside him. 

He’s already wrecked, but you aren’t done with him yet. 

 

  1. **Sakamaki Shuu**



 

Shuu never has been the sort to care too much what you to do him, as long as he gets what he wants in the end. Thus, it’s not too hard to talk him into letting you tie his wrists to the headboard with vampire-proof cuffs. 

You press a kiss to his lips, looping a blindfold around his eyes, and Shuu mutters something that sounds like a complaint. 

There’s no need to pay it any mind. He has a safeword for a reason. 

Sitting back on your heels, you take in the sight before you. Shuu is completely bare, soft skin on full display. The fabric around his eyes is blocking off his vision, cuffs leaving him helpless before you. You could do anything you wanted to him like this, and all he’d be able to do is squirm

Having such a powerful vampire at your mercy is a heady feeling, even if you know he’s only letting you do this because he feels safe. 

If anything, his trust makes it even sweeter. 

His cock is soft between his legs, but it’s starting to take interest. It gives a little twitch when you run your hands up his thighs, appreciating the strength just below the surface of his pale skin. 

Shuu is ridiculously pretty, all silken hair and dreamy blue eyes. That makes it an even more beautiful sight when you tear him apart. 

You glance to the heated wax you snuck back with you. The two of you have talked about this kind of thing before. Shuu had already established that he was tough enough to take whatever you wanted to do to him, since he’s handled everything else with barely a noise. 

It’s not  _ fair  _ that you haven’t made this beautiful boy break. 

Somehow you have a feeling that he won’t take this one quite as easily. You’re going to out-kink him if it kills you, at this point. 

Fire is a huge no, you’re aware. Instead, you have wax heated just enough for even a vampire to feel it, pooled in a little heated pan. You pick it up, tip it a bit, and watch the liquid red swirl and slosh towards the edge. 

The first drop of wax hits Shuu’s stomach, and the way he flinches is  _ visible.  _ A gasp like nothing you’ve ever heard leaves him. 

When Shuu twists against the cuffs, practically whimpering at the next drop, you go almost dizzy with arousal. This is already the most affected you’ve ever seen him, the most out of control, and you’ve barely begun. 

“Wh-What– Hot–!” There’s tension running through him, something more vulnerable than you’re used to. 

“Shhh, it’s just wax. There’s no fire. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

You carefully place the candle down and lean forward, kissing him and rubbing gently at the cooling wax. Shuu twitches all over, and kisses back like he’s dying for it. You can see him starting to get hard. 

A bit of wax goes to his thigh next, and the ragged moan the heat draws out of him is like fire down your spine. 

You’re not going to stop until he  _ begs.  _

 

  1. **Mukami Azusa**



 

“Please. . . I’ve been good. . . so, please. . .” On his knees, Azusa nuzzled at your hand, murmuring soft words against the skin. 

You pointedly refused to look at him, staring straight at your laptop. 

At first, you would have thought this would be cruel. Azusa was always so desperate for attention; denying him felt like one of the worst things you could do. You’d figured out by now that having to beg for your attention made it all the sweeter for him when he finally got what he wanted. 

Refusing to hurt him affected him almost as much. Making Azusa beg for every bit of affection you gave him in a scene got him more worked up than anything else you’d tried. His desperation was downright  _ cute.  _

Pressing little kisses against your fingers, Azusa’s pretty eyes slid shut. He looked beyond needy, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Please. . .” he whimpered again, as if asking again would help him any. Instead of giving him any attention, you yanked your hand away, ignoring the way Azusa scrabbled after it with shaking fingers. 

A soft whine left his lips, and he leaned forward, half into your lap. 

The hard floor had to be hurting his skinny knees. You knew he liked the pain, but he always looked so fragile. You didn’t like seeing Azusa hurt. 

Glancing towards him for just a second, you took in the desperate look in his eyes, something so attached, so vulnerable that it almost hurts to see. A little smile twitched at his lips as soon as you met his eyes, some soft whisper of hope shining through. He thinks the wait is finally over. 

You were intending to turn away again, but with him looking at you like that, you can’t imagine anyone who could manage to do it. 

“Alright. Are you going to be good now?” you ask, setting  your laptop aside and facing Azusa. That needy, devoted look falls over his face, the same always when he’s deep in the mindset of being  _ yours.  _

“Yes. . . for you. . .” His speech is slower than usual, Azusa struggling to make the words come out while he’s so flustered. 

“Hmmm. . . I don’t know if I believe you,” you say, tone teasing, and Azusa’s expression takes on an even more desperate look. He scoots forward, not caring how undignified he looks, and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your stomach before you can stop him.

“I  _ need  _ you. . .” he mumbles, nuzzling at you softly. “I’ll do. . . anything. . .” The picture he makes is beyond precious, and you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to ignoring him even if you wanted to. 

You run a hand through Azusa’s hair, caressing the soft strands. 

“Okay, okay, you’ve earned it.” You let praise seep through into your tone. There’s no need to pretend to be cold, not now. 

The noise Azusa makes can only be described as a whimper, skinny arms tightening around your midsection. You lean down, press a kiss onto the top of his head. He squeezes you like he’s afraid you’re going to pull away at any second, delighted that he’s finally getting attention.

You ease yourself down onto the floor and let him curl into your lap, pliant and needy and loving. This is  _ exactly  _ what he needs from you.

 

  1. **Sakamaki Reiji**



 

Slowly, as if he isn’t quite sure he can let himself do it, Reiji kneels in front of you, lowering his head just enough to look nervous. 

“You’re. . . really going to go through with this?” His voice is unsteady, something like uncertainty filling the words. For once, he can’t meet your gaze, can’t face you with his usual dignity and composure. 

“We agreed on it, didn’t we?” Reiji flinches at your words, a frown tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to worry about it. Just do what I say and let me take responsibility for it. No thinking, okay?” You brush your fingers over his cheek, reassuring. His eyes close, dark lashes soft against pale skin.

A few minutes later sees you in the nicest chair in your room, posture relaxed, yet commanding, leaving no room for Reiji to let himself resist. He’s just standing again, taking away the dishes from that night’s meal. 

You figured out early that caretaking, even from such a submissive position, gives Reiji a sense of purpose that he struggles to find on his own. You haven’t had a chance to take full advantage of this until now, but giving orders while Reiji worlessly obeys is a heady moment. It’s not a stretch to assume that he’s just as affected by the little commands and kind words.

So hard for him to give up his pride, it had taken far too long to get to this point, where Reiji had willingly agreed to let you make the choices. 

Even for a little bit. Even for a night like this. 

First was dinner, then a manicure; little things that let him feel owned. It had to be safe, nothing major, but having him kneel quietly while you ate was, by itself, one of the more powerful moments you’d experienced. 

Reiji returns, resuming his position beside your chair without having to be told. He learns quick, you both know, and when you aren’t looking for an excuse to resort to  _ discipline,  _ he’s nothing short of perfect for you. Even the tense look his features carried at first has melted away into an even calm. 

When you reach out to stroke his hair, Reiji leans into it. 

He’d never have done this before, even just weeks ago. You don’t know how deep into the mindset of not thinking, of trusting, of being yours he is, but at the very least, he’s ignoring his own sense of pride. 

You’ve told him not to talk, to let himself relax and let you make the choices, and he obeys, even though you know it’s a struggle for him not to fight someone else’s control. 

“You’re doing good, you know,” you mumble, absentmindedly petting his soft hair. “I’m proud of you for letting me do this.”

The little shudder that goes through him is impossible to miss. 

There’s more you’ll have him do tonight. You don’t want to push anything, of course, but this is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, even through the tremble in his shoulders that neither of you can miss.

 

  1. **Sakamaki Ayato**



 

“Hey! Come on! Are you really going to ignore me?” There was a desperate edge in Ayato’s voice, something almost fragile. 

“Mhmm. And I assume you’re not going to backtalk me again either?” you ask, turning to face him. “I gave you rules, and you broke them. This is what happens.” As soon as you were done, you stood up and walked away, leaving him wide-eyed and choking over protests behind you. 

You were thoroughly sick of the brattiness. For all Ayato said he was going to let you take control, he refused to shut up and actually let it happen. There were always protests, whining, disobedience at every turn.

And it wasn’t like he was just afraid. You could  _ tell  _ that it was on purpose, from the self-satisfied grin he gave you every time you gave up and let him bite you, allowing him to get away with being in charge for one more night just to spare yourself the trouble of a fight. 

While it was pretty clear that the reason behind it was uncertainty, fear of losing his iron grip on what little power he had, you didn’t like it. 

You knew well that Ayato thrived on attention and praise, that the few times you’d ever seen him close to losing it were when you’d treated him like something precious and loved. 

And thus, you’d come up with the idea to do the exact opposite. 

Footsteps followed you back to your room, and when you went to shut the door behind you, Ayato caught it, slipping into the room behind you with a look of something close to worry creasing his features. His hands clenched into fists, and his pretty green eyes narrowed, almost pouty. 

“Fine. Please? Please quit ignoring me?” he asked, sounding more frustrated than pleading. You crooked a brow, then turned away again. 

“What do I have to do?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulder and twisting you to face him. All you did was remove his hand and walk away, sitting down on your bed and pointedly not giving a reaction. 

You were about to pull out a book when you felt a nudge at your leg. 

Ayato had sat down on the floor, hugging your leg like a child. His face was hidden, ducked down far enough that you couldn’t see his expression. 

“Please don’t do this,” he whined, a raw note in his voice that made something in your chest ache. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be good. . .” With those words, he squeezed you tighter, acting like he was afraid you were going to kick him away. For all you knew, he might really have been expecting it. This was, by far, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen the proud boy. 

That was  _ definitely  _ far enough. 

You leaned down, hugging what you could reach of his slender shoulders. “Okay, it’s okay. I’m going to pay attention to you now. All I wanted was an apology and some effort. You did so good.”

The face he looked up at you with was full of open need, something soft and fragile, that would have been so easy to shatter for good. 

 

  1. **Mukami Kou**



 

Blindfolded, so he couldn’t use his magic eye to gain any kind of upper hand, you could see faint tear tracks along the flushed skin of Kou’s cheeks. 

You’d spent the past ten minutes talking to him, breaking down every wall you could find, little by little pulling apart the glue that held together his carefully constructed facade. Kou had been left just helpless enough that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself together, and you’d slowly pulled away every bit of fakeness that he clung to, used to shield himself from the world. 

His shoulders were shaking, little trembles spasming through him as he fought with whatever pride he had left not to cry. What you could see of his face was scrunched up, streaked with messy, wet tears. 

When you lowered a hand to his face to brush away tears, he flinched. 

“Poor thing. You didn’t want me to see this, did you?” you murmured, stroking your fingers over hot, damp skin. “Are you afraid?”

Kou sobbed, trying to curl up on himself, but you nudged his limbs back apart, not letting him hide. “O-Of course not,” he whined, voice fragile and weak. “I– I don’t–It feels like you’re  _ taking me apart. _ ” His hand found your wrist, squeezing, and he hesitantly nuzzled at your hip. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, and Kou froze. A little whine left his throat, and his hand tightened around your wrist, bruising. 

“N-No! I’m, it’s–” he shuddered again, so hard you could feel it. “Please don’t leave me. I  _ need  _ you.” There was a raw emotion in his voice like nothing you’d ever heard from him, something vulnerable and open. 

“Not gonna leave,” you crooned, leaning down to press soft little kisses onto what skin of his face you can reach. Kou whimpered at the touch, squirming, and when he reached up to tug you down to him, you went willingly. You let yourself be pulled back onto the bed, where Kou latched on. 

You pulled him close to you, looping an arm around his skinny shoulders and letting him nuzzle into your chest. He clings to you like he needs the affection terribly, pressing his blindfolded face close. 

“Good boy. Thank you so much for trusting me. I won’t leave, promise. I’ll be right here to take care of you,” you say, soft. 

Kou whines, mumbles something into your skin about how  _ broken  _ he is, and your heart aches. This is the real him. At least, as close to it as you’ve ever gotten, and what you’re finding is heartbreaking. 

What’s happened to him is so far beyond what you know how to deal with. Just getting to the root of the trauma like this is hard for both of you. You can’t imagine what you’d have to do to actually start fixing anything that you’ve found. You don’t know if Kou could take it. 

“It’s okay if you’re broken,” you say, pausing for just a moment to press another kiss into his soft hair. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

 

  1. **Mukami Kou**



 

Kou’s skinny wrists jerked under your grip when your fangs pierced his skin. Blood welled up, hot and sweet against your tongue, and the little sounds slipping out of him made the taste all the sharper. 

His back arched, chest pressing against yours as he tried to squirm away from the pain, heaving with unsteady breaths. 

When you finally pulled away, he crumpled, unable to stand now that your grip wasn’t keeping him up. Tear streaks ran down Kou’s pretty face, stunning blue eyes were glassy and unfocused, and soft lips were bitten-pink, complemented by the blood streaking his neck. 

In short, he looked  _ delicious.  _

On a whim, you pulled out your phone, snapping a couple quick pictures of Kou’s wrecked appearance before a truly wicked idea struck you. 

“Hey, pet~” you crooned, kneeling down to his level with your phone in hand. “Have a look at this! Don’t you just look  _ precious _ ?”

Dazed eyes flicking to the screen, Kou’s face abruptly went a good couple shades redder. He looked away just as fast, scrunching up his face and whining. How cute. He really did sound like some kind of pet. 

“Come on, now. I thought you were vain? Don’t you  _ love  _ it when those annoying girls take pictures of you when you’re at work? How’s this any different?” You paused, bringing a finger to your lips. “...speaking of work, I wonder what your little fans would think of seeing these?” It was hard not to snicker, imagining what kind of face he’d make in response. 

And, oh, you weren’t disappointed. Kou instantly lunged forwards, scrambling for the phone. You were on your feet in a second, holding it just above his head and laughing at the panic in his eyes. 

“No! Please, don’t!” Kou whimpered. “ _ Please.  _ I-I won’t struggle anymore? I’ll let you bite me at school? Anything,  _ anything  _ if you just delete those!” There was genuine fear in his voice, and the sound of it was even sweeter than his blood. You took a moment pretending to think. 

“Hmm. . . okay. I won’t post them. You’re too cute for me to delete the pictures, but, you know why I won’t spread them?”

Relief was visible in the way Kou’s shoulder’s dropped, in the way the pretty tears in his eyes finally spilled over. You could see his shoulders shaking. His thin fingers curled against the floor. 

You kneeled again, slipping your phone into your pocket again. This time, you wrapped one arm around Kou’s shoulders, ignoring the way he stiffened, and following it up by pressing a little kiss to the side of his forehead. Kou shivered even harder at the contact, eyeing you with nothing short of terror, and you smiled, tugging him closer to you. 

“You’re mine, kitty. No one else gets to see the pretty faces you make for me. I’ll be the one to torment you until the end of time.” 

He didn’t dare to object.

 

  1. **Sakamaki Shuu**



 

You’d never known Shuu to have a problem sleeping. By which you meant that you’d caught him asleep in a freezing bath before. 

Vampires like yourself didn’t need to sleep anywhere near as much as humans did. You could go nights without rest with little ill effects, but of course, it was much more comfortable to sleep in a pattern similar to that of a human. And that was where your problem stood. 

Sleep hadn’t come easily to you in years. Maybe that made you a bit cranky, or maybe tormenting the lazy prince charming of a human that had been sent to your mansion was just a little too fun. Either way, you’d spent more and more time seeking Shuu out to bully and tease. 

He’d found out at some point that you just… didn’t sleep _.  _ At least, not until your body physically crashed. You didn’t exactly try to hide it. 

You’d only been trying to bother him when you insisted that he teach you how to sleep like he did– everywhere and whenever he felt like it–, but he’d quickly taken the chance to avoid being bitten that night.

Now, Shuu laid across from you, already half asleep. His blue eyes were lidded, pale lashes casting shadows across his face in the low light, and his body slumped against your blankets in a relaxed sprawl. He hadn’t so much as bothered to kick off his shoes. You sort of felt like being offended, but you didn’t exactly have the mood to bite him for it. 

“You have to relax,” he mumbled, turning his face until his voice was muffled by the sheets. “You won’t sleep like that.”

“Brave words,” you snapped back, but your voice lacked anything harsh. You were too tired to bother with punishing him for that. “I suppose you’re the expert on falling asleep by now?”

“Nah,” Shuu muttered after a moment. “I’ve just gotten used to it. Don’t have the energy to do anything else.” His hand lifted, reaching over to brush against yours. “I’m warmer than you, if you want to lay down a little closer. It’s not like I’m the one who  _ bites. _ ”

His voice was teasing, obviously trying to imply something lewd, but you ignored it. You rolled your eyes, but did exactly so, rearranging your body until you were mere inches away. 

“I should make you cry for that,” you sigh, pressing your cold nose to the skin of Shuu’s neck just to feel him shiver. “You’re sassing me.”

“Later… ‘M tired,” Shuu yawns, squirming to better fit your grip. 

A human in your arms was warmer than you remembered, all pounding blood and steady breaths. The fabric of Shuu’s cardigan was soft under your hands, his body solid and  _ real.  _ You could bite him later, when you weren’t feeling so calm. It was nice to have him like this, quiet and peaceful and unafraid.

Within minutes, you were asleep. 

 

  1. **Sakamaki Reiji**



 

It wasn’t often that you got to see Reiji truly wrecked. He was too proud to allow you to witness any shameful side of him… no matter how much you both knew that he liked it. 

Now was one of those rare times. After nearly an hour of teasing and three orgasms, you could finally say that he was relaxed. 

And by relaxed, you meant very nearly a puddle on the bed. 

Face flushed up to his ears, hair sweat-damp and sticking to his forehead in a mess he would have never consciously allowed, glasses long discarded and leaving you with a perfect view of his dazed, crimson eyes, Reiji was the exact kind of wrecked you liked to see him. Even his posture, normally so strict and sharp, had been reduced to an undignified sprawl. 

The last of the aftershocks from his last climax were still making him shiver, and his softening cock was a delicious shade of red against his pale thighs. If you thought he had it in him, you’d have gone for another round. 

“Th-That’s… enough…” Reiji stuttered, though. Even his voice was shaking, tone so much softer than you were used to from him. 

On a whim, you leaned forwards, brushing Reii’s hair out of the way and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Alright. We’re done. You did great, darling.” If he’d been any more coherent, Reiji wouldn’t have let himself appreciate the soothing tone and sappy pet name. Like this, though, he went half-limp, shivering all over again and leaning into your touch. 

Poor thing really was starved for affection, when he let himself admit it. You pressed a series of soft little kisses down to Reiji’s cheek, just because you knew he needed the tenderness, and were met with a shaky arm wrapping itself around your waist, tugging you closer. 

“We’ll cuddle for a little bit, but I know you’ll be grouchy if we don’t clean up soon,” you smile, easing yourself down to his chest.

Reiji hugs you almost too tightly, curling himself around you like he never wants to leave. He sighs, once, into your hair, and you pretend like you can’t feel his tears, overwhelmed as he is. 

You’ve learned that he’s an easy crier when he’s being honest with himself. That’s just one piece of information that you feel  _ honored  _ to know. 

Adjusting yourself a bit, you move one hand to Reiji’s back, stroking long, slow lines up and down the skin. He shudders, breathing sharply into your hair again, and you’re reminded yet again that he hasn’t had nearly enough positive contact in his life. 

You’re going to have to get cleaned up soon. Everything right now is nice, but you know well that it’ll only be a few minutes before “nice” turns into “sticky and gross”. Neither you nor Reiji like that part. 

For now, though, it’s easier to stay where you are, Reiji’s larger frame wrapped around you. It feels so easy to never let go.

 

  1. **Mukami Ruki**



 

It was so, so easy for you to overpower him. Even smaller than him, you were so much stronger, and every time you forced his wrists above his head with more strength than you should possibly have, Ruki felt sick. 

Even worse was how the manhandling made his stomach feel hot and tight, coiling with something dangerously close to terrified arousal. 

This time, though, you didn’t stop at grabbing his wrists. Your mouth was at his neck, biting wound after painful wound into the pale, soft skin, leaving a trail of stinging pain from his jaw to his collarbone. As usual, he was forced to the floor, hands pinned above his head like it was nothing for you, back pressed bruisingly against the hard, wooden floor. 

“You taste so  _ good  _ when you’re afraid of me,” you moaned, digging your fangs in even deeper. Ruki fought back a pathetic yelp. 

The room you were in was almost making him sicker than the abuse. It appeared to be your personal torture room. The walls were lined with wicked looking instruments, from blades to chains to glorified pliers. 

It didn’t come as a surprise when the cuffs snapped closed around his wrists, cold metal biting into tender skin as he struggled. 

“Y-You won’t–” was all Ruki got out, though, before you were pulling away, slamming him against the floor hard enough to leave him breathless. The thought of ribs cracking flashed through Ruki’s mind as you forced him to his feet, hauling him up by the back of his shirt like he was a child. 

The cuffs looped over a hook dangling from the ceiling, and Ruki was left stretched up on tip-toes, still fighting for air his chest wouldn’t let him take in, shoulders burning with pain from being stretched too far. 

And then– then you were kissing him, roughly, with his own blood meeting his tongue. Your fangs digging little gashes into his lips. 

Next, your hands at his throat. 

Ruki’s heart leapt up into his chest, terror surging through him fresh and hot. He had no doubts that you could snap his neck in an instant. The pressure against his windpipe made him gag, gasping for air around the sudden block, and panicking all the more when he couldn’t get it. His heart was pounding, and he was already lightheaded. 

The moment stretches into putty, Ruki’s perception of time going lopsided with terror. Your hands go tighter and tighter, and his head starts to pound with something that’s probably  _ bad.  _ Just as soon, you let go. 

“I  _ love  _ you,” you sigh, breathless with excitement. Ruki coughs desperately, body heaving for air. “I’ll never, never let you go.”

You lean in, and Ruki flinches on instinct. He can’t breathe. He can’t form words. He can do nothing to fight back. “You’ll wear my bruises for days,” you croon. “I’ll never let them fade. You’ll be so pretty; marked up and bleeding for the one who owns you.”

The room is spinning, and Ruki’s head pounds with throbbing pulses of pain. He doesn’t dare to contradict you. 

 

  1. **Sakamaki Ayato**



 

“Quit complaining. You’re being noisy, and it’s annoying,” you growl from where your fangs are buried in Ayato’s neck. He’s been whining since you started, trying pathetically to shove you away from him. 

“It hurts!” he yelps in response, struggling to sound angry. “Get off of me! You can’t treat me like this!” New prey always has some room to learn, and you do try to go easier on the humans who haven’t realized just how futile their struggles are, but this is just irritating. 

Ayato shoves you again, hands catching on your shoulders and pushing hard. His face is red with pain and exertion, and those pretty green eyes are deliciously wide. You think that you might still go easy on him. 

“Fii~ine,” you say, drawing out the word in in a sing-song tone. “If you don’t want me to bite you, we can do something else.”

There’s a flash of relief across Ayato’s face, but he just as quickly covers it up with arrogance. You want to see that pride shatter, replaced with the kind of fear humans like him  _ should  _ be showing you. 

When you pull back, Ayato’s posture slumps ever so slightly. He’s tense when you’re close to him, you think with delight. How  _ entertaining.  _ You already know what you’re going to do with him next, and it’s easy to slip behind him, scooping him up just enough to teleport to where your next bit of fun will be, laughing as Ayato squeaks at the sudden movement. 

He looks around frantically, like he can’t understand how he changed rooms so quickly. Like he hasn’t seen you teleport before. When he finally takes in where he’s at, an adorable look of confusion settles over his features, making him look all the more like a pouty child. 

You’re beside your mansion’s indoor pool; a dark room with low light and dark tile. The water laps at the edges of the pool, and Ayato eyes it with something that seems almost uncomfortable. 

“The fuck is this…?” Ayato mutters, sounding half nervous and half unsure. You just smile again, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

“I told you; if you don’t want me to bite you, we’ll do something else. And judging from your attitude, I think you could stand to cool off.” There’s a flicker of terror in Ayato’s eyes, but it’s too late. 

From behind him, you give a rough shove, and with a  _ splash,  _ he’s in the water. You laugh delightedly. Maybe this will teach him to have some more respect for the creature that could kill him in a second. 

But instead of popping up, wet and offended, like you’d expected, Ayato surfaces in a flurry of panic. He’s struggling, clawing at the water like he thinks such frantic motions will keep him up. 

It occurs to you, suddenly, that he doesn’t know how to swim. 

And well, it’s not like you want your prey to  _ die.  _

You haul Ayato out of the water as easily as you can with him kicking like that, annoyed that you had to jump in after him and get wet. As soon as he’s on solid ground, he collapses, hacking up water and coughing like he’s dying, shivering so hard you can see it. You sit beside him until the coughing subsides, until he seems a little calmer, then speak up.

“So you can’t swim, hm?” Ayato flinches. “That’s what I thought. What a troublesome human, making me save you like that. I think you should beg me for forgiveness,” you say, voice harsh and irritated. 

He’s looking at you with nothing short of terror, still shaking pitifully. You think that this might have been a better punishment than you expected. 

 

  1. **Sakamaki Reiji**



 

“Hold still, now. We’re going to do ten this time, alright?”

“Understood.” Reiji’s voice doesn’t shake a bit, even as he’s bent over his own bed, about to be beaten. You’re the one who feels unsure. 

Even so, you swing the belt just like he showed you, wincing only a little bit at the crack of leather on bare skin, the sight of red blossoming under where your hit had landed. Reiji had insisted that he wanted this, wanted the pain, and you’re determined to do what he needs. 

“One.” You’re going to go slow. Not only because you need it, but because you’re well aware that the anticipation will get under his skin. 

The next two strikes land in quick succession, and you catch the first whisper of a flinch from Reiji. Vampire resilience or not, you’re hitting with as much strength as you can muster, and it  _ has  _ to hurt. 

The skin of his thighs is already going a dark, bruised looking red. You swallow your worry, and count off both hits, just as you agreed. 

Reiji takes number four with the same poise, only slightly tensing under the pain. You bite your lip. He had insisted that he wanted this to hurt. For number five, you put even more power into the strike, and are rewarded with a sweet little  _ yelp  _ escaping from his throat. That’s more like it, you think, and count off those two strikes as well. 

Six lands directly on top of a previous hit, and you force yourself to ignore the trickle of blood that oozes from the broken skin that results. Reiji has a safeword for a reason. He can stop this at any time. 

“Six.” You don’t miss the way he shivers at your stern tone. 

Seven leaves another red, angry bruise behind, staining the pale skin of Reiji’s thighs with crimson. You’re hitting more than hard enough to do real damage to a human, but the most response you get is another yelp. 

Eight draws out a third little sound, this time coupled with a short, gasping breath. Reiji ducks his head and shakes, but you don’t falter. 

“You’re doing good, you know,” you say, right before landing the next strike, the strongest one yet, and Reiji actually  _ moans.  _ It’s the most reaction you’ve gotten out of him, and you dare a smile. It’s not so bad, when you can tell that he’s enjoying it like this. 

The final strike lands across the sensitive curve of Reiji’s thighs with a resounding  _ snap.  _ As soon as “ten” leaves your mouth, Reiji goes limp. 

You’re sitting on the bed next to him in an instant, rubbing his back and running fingers through his hair. His thighs are a mess of blood and fresh bruises, and despite the way that he’s shivering almost painfully, the way he looks up at you is nothing short of  _ worshipful.  _

The most you know about Reiji’s… interest in being beaten is that it was a common occurrence in his childhood, that the closest to affection his mother ever treated him with was after beating him bloody. 

This, you think, is a much better way to fill that need. 

 

  1. **Sakamaki Kanato**



 

Three bites into the slice of cake you so  _ conveniently  _ left out, Kanato drops the fork. About ten seconds later, Teddy falls to the floor. 

You take that moment to appear in the kitchen beside him, standing just across the room. Kanato’s eyes, already starting to go glassy, flicker over to you with nothing short of panic. 

“Did the cake taste good?” you laugh, and that panic blossoms into terror. You lick your lips and Kanato shudders all over. 

“What did you  _ do _ ?” he whispers, sounding small and weak. 

“Just a little potion from the demon world. Don’t worry hon; it’s nothing fatal.” You step towards him, swipe up a bit of frosting from his plate, and lick it off your finger. “Won’t hurt me, either. That means I’ll be  _ plenty  _ safe to have my fill of you, you know?”

Kanato is going shaky all over. You can see it. He forces himself to stand up, and gets one step backwards before he crumples to the floor, limp as the dolls he treasures. A pathetic little moan leave him, terror-filled at the sudden lack of control over his body. He can’t move right now, but his mind is plenty aware. It’s just how you want him to be. 

“See, sugar, I was getting sick of all your whining when I bite you.” You crouch next to him, place a gentle hand on his back. “I’m going to teach you to be good. You won’t make a fuss this time, we can be sure of that.”

With Kanato limp, it’s easy to scoop him up. He doesn’t kick or struggle, and you’re able to simply carry him to a more private room. 

In one of the more isolated studies, you ease his pliant body down onto a couch. “See, I won’t be rough,” you laugh, delighted at the fear in his eyes. While his body is as good as paralyzed, his mental processes haven’t been affected a bit, and you can just imagine how afraid he is now. 

Sitting down next to him, you lift his wrist to your mouth, sinking your fangs in. Kanato doesn’t so much as flinch, but a soft, involuntary whimper leaves him, and you smile against the soft skin. How cute. 

Soon enough, you move on to ripping his shirt open, exposing his deathly pale, skinny chest. You bite just below his collarbone, and begin to work a path downwards, leaving a trail of bloody wounds in your wake. You settle at the meat of his stomach, where a few too many sweets have resulted in one of the only soft parts on his thin frame. 

The flesh there gives easily, and Kanato moans again, sounding terrified and pained. He still can’t so much as twitch, though, and you relish not having tiny hands clawing at your back for once. 

His fight is cute, of course, but toying with him like this is a rare chance… one that you will  _ treasure.  _

How sweet, to have such an pliant little doll to play with.

 

  1. **Sakamaki Ayato**



 

It takes him a stupid amount of time to realize that she isn’t coming back, that this time, he’s really been abandoned for good. 

Ayato’s owner had taken him to a park, small and isolated, out of the way. He’d been so  _ happy  _ that she’d taken him out for once, instead of leaving him locked up somewhere dark and alone because he could never be good enough. But then, she’d had him sit down beside a bench, told him that she’d be right back, and to ‘stay’ and be good until she returned. 

The sky had gone dark since then, and she wasn’t back yet. 

Ayato had spent a while being patient, hoping that she wouldn’t leave him here for too long, that she’d be back soon and would take him somewhere else nice. But time had passed, slow due to boredom, and Ayato had begun to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d gone from patiently waiting to squirming anxiously, eyes fixed on the street nearby. 

He’d hoped, though, that the feeling was wrong. He’d hoped that he was just being too needy again, and that she’d be back and take him home, and maybe only complain a little that he’d made trouble for her again. 

But the park only grows darker. The air only gets colder. She doesn’t return, and Ayato starts to think that he’s going to be sick.

He’s waited so long that he’d never find her, Ayato thinks, panicking. He hasn’t walked these streets before, and he’d never find his way home now. Even if he got up and forced himself to try to get back to her on his own, he wouldn’t make it. Shaking from cold and fear, Ayato stumbles over broken thoughts on what he could possibly do now. 

It’s sinking in, little, by little, that he’s been abandoned. Maybe, maybe she  _ hopes  _ he won’t make it back. Maybe he’s finally been thrown away like she always threatened she would. Fear rises bitter in the back of Ayato’s throat. She always just shut him in a room when she was angry before, only threatened to leave him somewhere and not come back. Ayato realizes that his hands are shaking. He feels close to throwing up. 

So he lays down, dirt hard under his chest, and curls up. If he stays here, if he’s good, someone will come back for him. 

She told him to be good, and this time, he’ll be sure to obey. 

He wishes she’d take him back. Even if she had to beat him like his birth home did when he was bad, it would be better than being all alone. Like this, no one would ever want him again. Everyone would know that he’d been thrown away, no owner would want to deal with something so rotten. 

There’s panic tightening his chest, making it hard to breathe. Ayato forces himself to stay low and curled up, to keep himself warm. Someone will be back for him, they have to. Even if it’s not her,  _ someone.  _

And he’ll be patient and good until then. 

 

  1. **Tsukinami Shin**



 

The collar went tight around his neck before he could stop it. You have Shin pinned to a wall, arms behind his back, and all the complaint he can make is a bitter little moan. You’d laugh, but the real fun hadn’t started yet. 

“Don’t touch that,” you say, smiling and pulling yourself to your feet. “If you try to take it off, I’ll break your fingers.” 

Shin’s good eye goes wide. His hands move away from the collar very quickly. You flop down on the chair behind you, twirling the remote in your hand. There’s a series of buttons, each corresponding to a shock setting. Shin is glaring at you like he thinks his protests are going to do him any good. He bites out an angry curse, so  _ annoyingly  _ disrespectful, and you press one of the buttons for a lower setting at random. 

A little yelp leaves him, hands flying to his neck as his body spasms. “What the fuck did you do?” Shin hisses, and yep, this one never learns. Yous shock him again, at the same level, just to hear his squeak. 

“Bad dog,” you laugh. “Quit your barking. You’re annoying when you complain so much.” Shin’s jaw twitches, furious. “I want you on your knees like a good pet, come on. I’ll make it hurt worse if you don’t obey.”

“Fuck no! Why woul–” You cut him off halfway through with a stronger shock,  _ forcing  _ him to his knees as his muscles spasm and jerk. 

He keeps trying to protest, keeps trying to get back up, and every time, you shock him again, turning the power up more and more with every attempt. Shin yelps, then howls, breathing staccato-sharp and heavy under the pain of electricity running through him. You don’t even have to touch him. All it takes is a press of a button to put him in his place.

Finally, finally he stays down. There’s fury and humiliation in his eyes, but he doesn’t try to get up again, doesn’t curse at you or try to struggle any more. You smile. This is progress. 

“Good boy,” you croon, like you’re talking to an animal. “Hmm, why don’t you bark for me? Like a real dog. That’d be cute, huh, doggy?” Then, like an afterthought, “You know what will happen if you don’t.”

Eyeing the remote like he wishes he could smash it, Shin looks up at you with a flushed, pained expression. He’s shaking, you note with delight. And then, without you even having to press the next button, he does it. You shock him again because the little yips aren’t quite genuine. 

“Come ooon~ You can do better than that!” you laugh, running your finger over the edge of the remote. “Wag your tail, puppy!” 

Looking like he’d sooner be dead, Shin barks again, something closer to a realistic yip. Hesitantly, like he hates himself for every second of it, he gives his hips a little shake, a pathetic imitation of a dog’s tail. 

“How cute! You know what? I think next, you should lick my shoes.” Shin’s eye starts to twitch, a look of horror crawling across his face. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I mean, we both know what will happen if you don’t.” You give him another little shock to make your point, relishing in how he squeaks, how he tries to curl in on himself to hide from the pain. 

With your finger hovering over one of the higher settings, Shin crawls with delicious reluctance over to your feet. 

His head falls to your shoes, and you  _ know  _ you won’t get tired of this.

 

  1. **Mukami Ruki**



 

In all honesty, the scars on Ruki’s back are ugly things. The skin is red and raw, jagged edges still rough even after countless years to heal. The wounds were deep enough, back when he was a human, that there’s little now that could do anything to help their ragged appearance. 

You know that they hurt. Ruki’s skin is a mess of scar tissue, and yet, you’ve quickly figured out that the mental scars run even deeper. 

Your fingers trace down his spine, and Ruki makes a soft, pained noise into his pillow. He’s laying on his side, shirt off. Apparently, the scars tended to dry out horribly, skin tender and raw, and between being unable to reach the wounds himself and having no one he trusted to see the scars, Ruki had been going far too long without taking care of them. 

As soon as you found out, of course, that had to change. 

“It’ll be okay,” you soothe, leaning in just enough to press a kiss into his hair. You can’t see Ruki’s face, but you know how hard this has to be for him, what it must feel like to let you see his most fragile parts. 

The scars are soft and unbearably tender under your fingers, every raised, pink-red edge that mars the skin. Even just rubbing lotion into the skin, you can see the way Ruki’s shoulders shake. A few minutes in, you can feel the the smallest sobs, choked off before– he hopes– you can hear. Ruki is too proud to let you see him cry. You’re willing to give him the dignity of pretending like you don’t notice the ragged edge to his breath. 

You sit there, tracing the lines of red, barely resisting the urge to do something that would be seen as pity. Eventually, you get past the point of merely treating the old wounds. You’re spending longer than you need to doting over the tender skin, and both of you know it. 

Ruki doesn’t say anything, just curls in on himself ever so slightly. You imagine that he voice would break if he tried to talk. You  _ know  _ that the subtle body language is the most vulnerability he can bear to show.

Hoping it won’t be crossing an unseen line, you press a tender kiss to the center of the larger scar. 

You don’t press any further than that. Ruki has already done so much to trust you; you aren’t going to make him feel any more helpless than what he’s already had to face in letting you take care of him. 

Making sure not to look at his face, you settle into bed behind him, pressing close, your chest against his back, arms settling around the flat planes of his stomach. Even though you’re too small to properly hold him, it’s comforting, close, everything that Ruki will never admit to needing. You don’t intend to make him beg. You’ve pushed his limits plenty for one day. 

“I love you. You did so well,” you murmur. 

You pretend not to notice the way he shakes at the words. 

 

  1. **Tsukinami Carla**



 

Carla’s health is weakening, and he knows it. He’s tired so often that bursts of energy almost make him sick. He slips in and out of fevers, body fighting something that no one has been able to narrow down. He’s steadily losing weight, bones showing through his skin more than ever. 

You’re trying to find a way to help him. The demon world has things that his world doesn’t, you insist. Despite your reassurances, Carla has his doubts. Neither you nor the human doctors have found anything yet.

The most recent flare up is just fading, fever breaking, nausea easing to the point where he can eat enough to at least keep his weight where it is, awful, wracking coughs no longer bringing up old blood. Carla is tired through every part of him, caught in the strange, awful feeling that maybe it would be better if the next episode ends the ordeal for good. 

The two of you sit over a late lunch, small talk filling the air like smoke, hiding what neither of you want to say. 

He’s not getting better, and no one knows what to do. 

You’re halfway through a sentence when your voice skips, jumping from the beginning of a sentence to the end without a word in-between. Carla stares, for a moment, but you continue to talk like nothing is out of the ordinary. He stares so long that your face flickers with pity, with concern. 

The next sentence passes fine, then the one after that. His words aren’t jumbled up when he responds, and for just a moment, Carla thinks that the strange moment was just a trick of his mind. 

One second, Carla is looking at you across the table from him. 

The next, you’re at his side, a look of something close to horror tugging at your features. 

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Carla replies, but the words stick in his throat. He’s blinking, too fast, too much, and everything in his field of vision suddenly seems fuzzy around the edges. 

“I asked you a question, and you didn’t respond. I tried to get your attention, but you just kept staring off into space. It took about thirty seconds for you to answer me.” Worry is thick in your voice, something dangerously afraid. 

A cold spike of fear wedges itself into Carla’s chest. This isn’t right. As long as he’s known you, you’ve been untouchable. You’re a vampire, you’re stronger than a human. You’re  _ supposed  _ to be the strong one.

“I’m alright. It was nothing more than fatigue, I’m sure. There’s no need to worry ourselves.” On some awful instinct, Carla slips back into an old rhythm, cutting off those unpleasant feelings before they can take root. If he doesn’t let the worry close enough to hurt him, he’ll fine. 

Carla chokes down the feeling that something is wrong, dismissing your worries and returning to the food. He skips over sentences a couple more times, short instants that you thankfully don’t notice. He doesn’t know if he’ll be alright, really, but at least he won’t have to see you just as afraid.

 

  1. **Mukami Kou**



 

“No, stop!” Kou squeaks, caged in against the far wall of his dressing room. You’ve torn his shirt down past one shoulder, exposing half of his slender chest, making him look deliciously helpless and small. 

Poor thing could stand to eat more, you think, laughing as he struggles, skinny arms uselessly shoving at your chest. 

“We can’t do this here! I have a show in twenty minutes!” He yelps, voice going frantic when you lean in to lick at his neck. “Come on, please _.  _ At, a-at least wait until after the show,  _ please. _ ” Kou’s pretty blue eyes are blown black with terror, shoulders trembling faintly. He keeps glancing over at the door like he expects someone to burst in at any second. You don’t blame him. You left it unlocked for a reason. 

“Calm down, kitten. Don’t worry.” You run a hand through Kou’s hair, faux-comforting. “If we take too long, you’ll just skip the show. And if someone comes in, well, they’ll just see what a little slut you are.” You smile, sugar-sweet, delighting in the panic that flickers across his face. 

The hand in Kou’s hair tightens, pulling his head back far enough to expose the pale line of his throat. A quick tug to pull his shirt away reveals the old marks and scars, healed-over punctures dotting the skin of his neck. 

How pretty. How sweet. You can’t wait to leave  _ more.  _

Kou squeals when you sink your fangs into the meat of his shoulder, twisting against you like he wants to get away. You let him fight. You’re strong enough that his shoves are nothing, and he’ll only make it hurt more by struggling to get away from the teeth in his neck. 

Soon, though, his pained little whimpers take on a heated edge. You pause to lick a stripe up his throat, and his hips buck against yours. 

“Poor little kitten. Are you feeling good?” you croon in his ear, scraping your fangs briefly against the soft skin. Kou  _ whines,  _ low and hot, scrunching his eyes closed like he can’t bring himself to look at you. 

“Just imagine, anyone could walk in here and see you. They’d know just what a little masochist you are, wouldn’t they? It’s all over your face, kitten; you love this. Maybe they’d get a picture. Wouldn’t that be nice? All your little fans could see what you’re like when you’re with your owner.” With every word, Kou tenses, squirming. His face is downright  _ red,  _ flushed up to his ears with something between humiliation and shameful arousal. 

When you lean in to bite him again, you shove a thigh between his legs, just so you can feel the way his hips shudder against you.

This time, his hands go to your back, clawing at your shirt as the pretty little moans you love slide out of his throat like a song. For all you tease, there’s no way you’d let anyone else see him like this. Kou’s submission, his humiliation, his fear, all belong to you alone. 

 

  1. **Mukami Yuuma**



 

A week ago, you’d been cornered by one of the girls at school; a self-centered, vicious type who shoved you against a wall hard enough to leave purple-green bruises dotting your ribs. 

And it had been fine. Yuuma had been angry, viciously so, growling threats that you were sure he’d never follow through with.

It had been just another day to forget. 

And then, you push open the front door after school one night, when the air is still dark and clear, when the sky is black and glittering with stars. A scent that you know by now to be blood hits your nose, acrid and sticky-thick in your lungs. Your first thought is that someone must have brought their prey home today. 

Then you see the dark trail of blood leading to the back door like something out of a horror movie, messier than anything you know Yuuma or any of his brothers to do when merely feeding. 

The blood is wet and sparkling, liquid-fresh and brilliant red. You follow it, hesitantly, outside, taking slow steps like if you take your time, the trail will lead to nowhere when you get far enough. 

You get outside, and your stomach twists in your gut as if you’ve been stabbed. Yuuma is sitting on the steps leading out to his garden, a body beside him. A  _ body,  _ you realize, that whoever it is is most definitely not alive. The person is soaked with red, their neck twisted at an odd angle that no one could possibly survive. Nausea lurches low in your gut, and then, you recognize that the corpse is wearing your school’s uniform. 

A second later, you realizes that you know who it is. 

It’s the girl who attacked you last week, eyes rolled back in her head, one half of her face smashed in like a ripe fruit. 

One of her arms is very nearly not attached to her body anymore, you note, horror a frigid thing in your chest. Then, when your eyes flicker up, that Yuuma’s face is smeared with blood. 

“Oi, sow, get over here!” he calls, tone casual and familiar. As if he’s not holding onto the corpse of someone you knew. 

As if in a daze, you obey.

When you sit down next to him, Yuuma tears a strip of flesh off of the girl’s arm. He’s strong, so strong, strong enough that her muscles part like petals under his hands, red and soft and glistening. Yuuma brings the hunk of meat to his mouth, and tears off a messy bite, blood drooling down his chin in thick, wet lines. You’re suddenly aware that the corpse appears to be missing more than a few more chunks. 

“I shut her up!” Yuuma laughs, grinning ear to ear. “It’s what she gets for messing with you.”

There’s a weight in your chest like lead, wrapping around your lungs and squeezing tight. You think you might be about to throw up. Or maybe start laughing. You’re really not sure which. 

Yuuma presses the ragged end of a strip of meat to your mouth, and you chew obediently, swallowing a piece of her. 

 

  1. **Tsukinami Carla**



 

Your hand tightens around Carla’s throat, keeping him pinned to the wall. Instead of trying to find his voice, Carla stays quiet and still, ignoring the steady burn in his lungs when breathing gets difficult. 

“Such a cute human. I wonder just what our relationship used to be, hm? Were you good prey?” you ask, and Carla’s heart all but breaks. 

A week ago, you hit your head. A week ago, a rival vampire had punched you hard enough to knock some memories loose. Now, even though you’d been curled around him, rubbing his back through coughing fits and waves of nausea just days earlier, you had forgotten whatever sweetness he’d earned from you. 

Everything, suddenly, is back to the way it was. 

You treat him like nothing but prey again. Every part of him wishes he could have the you that loved him back. Days have passed, and there’s no sign yet of anything resembling your old feelings returning. 

Your hand goes to Carla’s hair, yanking his head back with enough force that a few strands snap. He bites his lip and bears it, aching for a time when you’d be gentle. 

Next are your fangs, sliding into neck with the rush of pain that had become almost comforting. Carla shivers, a part of him still hoping that your bite, at the very least, will remain the same. Instead, so much more roughly, you tear at the thin skin, slicing open holes into his throat. 

The pain itself doesn’t hurt half as badly as the knowledge that this isn’t  _ right.  _ This isn’t how your bites are meant to feel. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, blood soaking your smile. There’s no love in you eyes. The pain in Carla’s chest feels like an open wound. “Is this different than before, prey? You  _ can’t  _ be upset because I’m being too rough. You’ve been mine for so long… even if I don’t remember, I’m sure your body understands just how things are meant to be.”

There’s no emotion in your voice. You’re grinning at him like he’s a pinned insect, just something to toy with. Months of progress have been ripped away, months of coming to love you, and now, you look at him like he’s nothing more than any other human that could be yours. 

“You were kinder,” Carla says, voice low. If you kill him for it, at least he won’t have to live with knowing what he’s lost. “There was… There was love, of a sort. I don’t expect you to remember it, but I will never forget.”

With that, he tilts his head back, offering his throat to you. There’s a part of him that still wants this. There’s a part of him that prays that you’ll suddenly be the same again. Even without it, this is the last thread of closeness he can have with you. Your fangs at his skin are the one thing that feels the same. 

Deep down, he knows that there won’t be any going back. 


End file.
